26 September 2009


The sky, an ocean, inside
out: without the hum of
waves, the birds
flutter instead.

I listen, twisting
in your bed, a sky
behind my eyes, an ocean
without noise: if a cloud
is a collection of thoughts,
warm, fragile: the birds
would know--yet I am hidden,

Even from the sky. I tried
my best to move you. Maybe
the rain will do a better
job than I.

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